Page 20 of First Christmas

She seemed on edge again today. I knew her anxiety was high again because of the first holiday without doom and gloom hanging over her head. She wasn’t used to just being able to enjoy something without looking over her shoulder.

“Just wrapping the last of the Christmas presents,” she murmured, moving past me and into the kitchen. “Can you grab them from the attic and bring them down? I already have the wrapping paper and stuff ready on the kitchen bar.”

I nodded, turning and heading up the stairs. I pulled down the built-in ladder leading up to the attic and climbed a few rungs. I could grab a couple of bags from here with my height. I saw a wrapped package sitting by them that said my name from Becks. Shaking my head I knew she’d been climbing around the attic by herself again.

I sighed, pushing the ladder back up into the ceiling and turned. Nat’s room looked like a tornado had hit it. I grimaced, knowing that irritated Becks. I also know she’d asked her to clean it before she left.

“That’s not helping the anxiety,” I muttered, flipping Nat’s lights off and closing the door to her room. I picked up the bags of gifts and jogged down the stairs.

“Nat didn’t clean her room?” I asked, walking into the kitchen. Becks stood with her hip against the kitchen bar looking at her phone. Loose curls fell around her face from her ponytail and she glanced up at me, eyes irritated behind her glasses.

“Doesn’t look like it. I’m texting her now. I want it done before Christmas morning.” she muttered.

“It looks like a typical teenagers room,” I placed the bags on the bar, smiling at her.

Her phone hit the bar with a thunk and she straightened. “Typical teenager or not, I asked her to clean it before she went. I don’t need everyone ganging up on me,” she snapped.

My eyebrows raised.Okay. Something else was going on here. Becks was never this short with me.

“No one is ganging up on you, Becks.”

She laughed and took out Monica and the girls’ gifts. Reaching back into the bag she took out two manly looking presents and I knew she’d included Nick and Trevor.

My heart warmed a little bit. The second bag held several gifts for Nat, but as I watched her, I saw her hands were trembling. Leaning over, I moved the things she'd just taken out of the bags and placed my tattooed arms against the counter, looking up at her.

She scowled at me, but I could see something like pain lurking in her eyes. Maybe we’d finally reached a boiling point. I’d waited for this to happen. She’d never grieved or exploded after everything, might as well be tonight. Nat was out of the house and we could deal with this once and for all.

“What are you doing?” she asked with a huff, “I need to get these done.”

“We have two days.” I commented calmly, still looking at her. “Why don’t you tell me what’s bothering you, sweetheart.”

“Ugh!” she slammed her palms on the counter “Not everything is a therapy session, Lucas.”

I straightened, my own palms flat against the counter, “And how was therapy today?”

“Stupid.”

My eyebrows raised further.

“Explain, Rebecca.”

“I don’t have to talk to everyone about everything!” she snapped at me.

“No. You see, that is the problem. You don’t talk to anyone, about anything.” I said, my voice louder now.

Instead of the fear coming across her face, that she usually got when I was frustrated and barely raised it, she squared up like she was going to go toe to toe with me.Here we go. Finally.

“You have no idea,” she muttered, spreading some wrapping paper back out on the counter, moving to ignore me.

I swept my arm out, knocking it off the counter completely. She picked up the tape dispenser, tossing it at my chest. The small, plastic container hit me right in the middle of my casual tee and clattered to the floor. I glanced down at it and back up at her.

“Why don’t you try using your words and telling me what the fuck is wrong, Becks?” I demanded softly.

Her hands went into the air and she honest-to-goodness stomped her foot.

“Everyone wants me to talk. Becks, you’ve been through such trauma. Becks, you’re too strong. Becks, tell me what’s wrong-”

“Well to be honest, you’re working yourself up into some kind of drill sergeant with cleanliness around here so everyone’s walking around on egg shells for fear of pushing you over the edge. Why don’t you go ahead and jump off it? Have at it! Do something, Rebecca. Explode. Rage. Break shit. Be pissed. Get fucking furious. Your therapist is right. You haven’t grieved. You haven’t even gotten mad. You’re holding it all in and it's affecting your life and health. It's starting to affect our relationship and your friendships. I know it's related to your anxiety and issues here, but dammit. Nothing’s going to get better unless youLet. Me. In!”

---